She stares out
pulling at things to distract her,
the park walker.
But she is so immersed,
she cannot remember
if she needs her hero to be
or a murderer.
Because right now in her mind,
to die is to be saved.
The Chill of MeltingThe loving hands which shaped these feathers
bade me fight the fire and forsake the water,
find the space between.
Then those hands released me from our cage,
and from my mind all was gone.
The empty openness of the sky
was the same as that of my mind.
Curiosity flew to me on her silver wings
and, landing on my back,
bade me soar.
She flew into my throat and sat in my heart
warming her iced hands at the fire of my freedom.
She bade the flames burn brighter,
for her hair was tangled with frost,
her eyes had become crystals of ice,
and snow now flowed through her veins.
She sang to me a song of winter,
and in the spring sun
I sprung from the cold shadows.
Her breaths of mist filled my wings
and chilled my blistering skin.
Her icy tears streamed from my ember eyes.
She gathered the cinders in her icicle fingers
and cooled my burning fear.
But as she sang her song,
the fire bade me fall.
Curiosity’s laughter screamed in my ears.
As the ashes swirled like snow,
I floated past the soft
LabyrinthDarkness will, in this maze,
scream in the ears of wanderers.
Darkness will, in this labyrinth,
crawl into the hearts of men.
Darkness will, in this endless hall,
silence escaping words and drag the rain from eyes of children.
Darkness will, in this prison,
ColorlessFeel openness around you,
lending its strength to the worn wood
bending beneath you
and holding you up.
The trees clutch you close to their chests,
comforting your unseeing eyes.
In the quiet around you
blooms the silent flower,
your own breathing the only thing to sound
alongside the avian lullabies
singing the sun to cool slumber.
Swallow the birds’ calls,
keeping the chill of the night from your skin.
Hear the trees’ heartbeat,
beating a rhythm for your own.
Breathe in the silence
pooling about you.
Because when you’re alone
your empty eyes can see.
Red LeatherMy eyes kissed the tough wagon,
“I’m afraid I’ve surprised you” said the wheel,
as red leather rocks took the shock and flew.
They flew twice as high as the wall,
flew past the stars and grew into the moon,
as the clouds sang, loud proud and true.
The frog sat inside the mailbox,
as someone pushed a pile of post,
the wide face swung forward and bit.
Paper bruised and cut its poor throat,
so our little frog melted to soft mud
and snow fell on the hot tarmac.
Wavering heat feasts on bones,
bones disowned by the scrap dogs.
Children mutter proverbs in silence,
their eyes lamps of sugar and spice
and as the gasping earth drinks its tea,
lambs die and no one hears their cries.
Away From HomeChantel walked along the boring, grey hallway like she did everyday on the way to group therapy. Walking down those halls really reminded her how much she hated the color grey. The walls were grey, the ceiling was grey, the furniture was grey, the sky outside was often grey; the color grey seemed to be a pandemic and, the first point of infection was the building she now lived in. She was an inpatient at a sanitorium surrounded by bucolic fields, trees and, as Chantel had figured when she arrived, nothing else. Thinking about the surrounding countryside reminded her of how she had been dropped at Mountainview Sanitorium by her untenably furious parents just a week ago. However, it seemed like years since she was sitting in the leather back seat of the family Volkswagen, duffel bag at her feet. The door to group therapy and the face of her friend Claire woke her from her reverie.
“Dude, lets go! Doc is gonna kill us if we’re late again,” Claire smiled as she remembered
AthenaTeach me how to be soft.
Like Monet paintings.
All pastel and water color
So easily washed away.
But so breath takingly pretty.
Teach me how to be quiet. (Ha!)
Like the breeze whistling through the trees.
Delicate and belonging to Spring.
Turn my hurricane winds into something you can handle.
Teach me how to be beautiful.
A paper cut out doll from your magazines, so easily ripped in to two.
But don't I look so nice in this dress?
Make my hair like silk
Instead of a mess of tangled curls.
Take your burning hot flat irons and turn every fiery red head knot into golden blonde.
Style it until I look like a Hollywood princess.
Sick and utterly gorgeous.
Am I perfect to you now?
You took my storms and made me into a colorless July sky.
But you tell me 'Smile honey'
Cameras go 'Snap snap snap'
And I can hear my heart beat in them.
You've taught me this since I was born.
But I know better now.
My pretty is unique
Like wild flowers and thunderstorms.
Vibrant and loud.
And I will not be tamed,
I am a writer.And I don't even care
if the world hears my story.
All I want to do
is put my ink to paper
and stain the white with all the things
you said to me
and watch the paper blacken
until you can't see the lines,
because I am a writer.
And I always carry my pen
so I can stain the world with my stories
the way you stained me.
I'll see you in the pages.
I Ship UsI can not measure our love
in words, but in how tight
we hug when we finally
see each other again. There
is starshine in your smile
and I could swear that you
are Aurora, wreathed in
beauty, but with less sleeping
and more ass-kicking.
You are kind and selfless,
a true paragon of love
and a goddess of all things
good. where most have blood,
you have eternal love.
all the light in the world
is simply not enough
to express the light
your friendship and
love bring to me.
Passion and excitement
exude from everything
that you do and you pour
your heart into; everything you
make, everything you touch.
When we first met, there wasn't
a doubt in my mind that I
had found one of my soulmates,
someone who could laugh
over puns and obsess over
pokemon, someone who wouldn't
judge me on anything I'd done.
A kind soul that is there
for all to see. One that has
been scarred and one I
wish to protect. Everything
you do becomes better
simply by your being there.
You are the reason I believe
in friends b
Gentle EdgesDarling..be gentle with my edges,
they may be sharp and rough,
but they are a big part of me
that made me strong when I was weak.
wands up your face had many names,
each one a ring in the tree of your life;
a paragon in the arts, a kind voice in the wind
you were the lighthouse in the fog,
the booming presence from above,
the firework display in Germany,
and the wizard who struck Muggle gold
in the hearts of millions;
the laughter in your halls will cease
to be mo
HumanDying sun and the birth of the moon.
Foxes playing in the snow and ancient memories.
Receiving presents and getting drunk in the daylight.
Useless criticism and sad songs.
White weddings and pale funerals.
Kind words and happy endings.
Heartbreak, success, failure, death and happiness.
A good book and life in general.
Simple things like that can make you cry.
And that's okay.
You're not made of stone and iron,
you're not a cold, heartless machine...
You're just human.
And that's more than okay.
Goodbye, My Best StrangerThe worst way to lose a friend,
Is when they become a stranger.
Where they were the person who was holding your hand
And keeping you from falling off of the cliff.
But they finally let go
And as you fall away,
You can see their face get smaller and smaller
Until you hit the ground and your mind goes blank.
I liked the way we depended on each other.
Like I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed your company
But you liked me too.
I liked the way you talked about stars.
As a kid who has a bad sense of gravity,
I thought you were one for a while.
You definitely were as bright as a sun,
And you were holding me in place,
Keeping me from drifting into space.
Now whenever we talk it makes me even lonelier.
We were such good friends.
I want you here with me
And the miles between us are like weights on my chest
They’re crushing my lungs.
But now we just make small talk
The pieces fall at our feet.
The words used to fit together so perfectly
Talking to you never was a puzzle.
Words came as n
speak up before it's too lateit saddens me deeply
how the difference
between making your life
and taking your life
is a single letter
remember the importance
speak up before it's too late
Through The FlameThrough The Flame:
Can you feel it in the winds?
The chilling cries of blood-lust that sing through the air...
May your people weep at the destruction that is to come;
While you mortals cower behind your wards of flesh and steel!
How does it feel I wonder,
This question I ask
To those who have spent their entire existence
Amassing power over their fellows...
Know now that your paltry gestures;
Your pseudo-might is but dust,
Cast into the violent wind of a whirling typhoon!
Now, tremble within your hovels of concrete and steel,
For I am rage incarnate and I have come to ensure,
That your world will burn...